Page 28 of Strange Lights

“I haven’t even gotten started.”

13

An Unwelcome Visitor

I wake sometime later. No one ever sleeps over at the Winnebago, so I’ve forgotten how nice it is to wake next to someone. I’ve never slept next to someone quite like this, with intimacy of a nonplatonic kind. Calvin’s breath is warm against the back of my neck, and his arm is a comforting weight across my chest. For a moment, I can’t tell what time it is. Has Eldi come back yet? Rays of bright sunlight are shining across my face, yet the room still seems darker than it should be.

My body figures out what’s wrong before my brain does, moving on autopilot as my mind races to catch up. I slide out from under Calvin’s arm, silently pulling on whatever clothes my trembling fingers find first. My heart beats wildly, and I’m breathing too loudly. It’s still middle-of-the-night dark. What I thought were sunrays are instead a pair of headlights. It’s the Jeep.

Eldi. Eldi is still outside. We locked the door. I locked her out. I curse my stupidity silently. Maybe Winnie would override that and let her inside, but she’s probably still out hunting. And Doug and Dave are nowhere to be seen either. For all I dislike Dave after the ear probe incident, I remember Doug tenderly stroking her face as she slept. And Dave, holding me at knifepoint, ready to maim and kill for her. I’ll never say another word against Dave if he keeps her safe now.

I shove my feet into the pair of blood-spattered Chuck Taylors lying by the door, tossed back into the open by Doug or Dave. A quick glance toward Eldi’s bunk above the cab confirms my fear: She’s still gone. The Jeep idles between the Winnebago and the Airstream, high beams no doubt deliberately aimed right at my window, casting a wide circle of light. The door makes the softest of clicks behind me.

I shade my eyes as they adjust to the light. Someone casually leans against the Jeep, a silhouette backlit by the headlights.

“Well, finally,” she says, voice icy and full of loathing. “Nice of you to show your face. We’ve been missing you.”

“You’ve been following me for ages,” I say, my voice just as cold. “Apparently, you can come and go as you please. You can’t have missed me that badly.” Confirming who’s been on my tail is no surprise, but the jagged spike of pain that comes along with the confirmation is.

“You’ve always made assumptions about me. Don’t you want to know why I’m here?” She steps closer, out of shadow, and I can see her face clearly.

Zara looks so different from the last time I saw her years ago. Older obviously, but it’s still a shock. Not a hair out of place, short dark waves, close cropped now instead of long and messy. Her golden skin and dark brown eyes, I remember the exact shade of both, but all her warmth has fled her. The hope I hadn’t realized I still held on to shatters to pieces, replaced by immense guilt. She’s got a classic nondescript suit, too professional for a wee-hours meeting in the desert. Not at all the style I remember her having, but I guess it goes to show we all change.

I feel distinctly underdressed as the cool night air caresses my bare legs. It seems the first clothes I scrambled to get on were a dirty, inside-out sweatshirt and Calvin’s boxers. The off-kilter feeling of no longer knowing this person intensifies as she steps closer, and I remember how many inches she has on me. I don’t know where the years have gone. Somehow it’s been almost a decade. I wonder what I look like to her eyes.

“I know why you’re here, Agent,” I say finally. “To tell me to come back.”

“That’s what she wants. She thought I could convince you.” Zara doesn’t dispute that she’s still at Agency 51. A chill icier than the cool night air passes over me.

“You stayed.” I’m not sure if I mean it as a statement, question, or accusation.

“And if anyone could understand the reasons why, it should be you,” Zara says. “I only stayed because you left me behind. You think there were no consequences when you bolted? Who do you think she took that out on? Who do you think had to pick up your slack?”

“I had to leave. I had no choice.” But I know my reasons seem like excuses.

“No, I had no choice. You chose not to come back for me, though. You knew exactly what fate you were leaving me to, and you never once looked back.”

The years fall away, and for a moment I can see it, the warmth in her eyes, her blind faith that I’d always be there for her. I feel sick. This is all wrong. I made a mistake, and I have to fix it somehow. I open my mouth, ready to confess everything.

“I am not the person you thought I was.” The words stick in my throat.

“Obviously. You’ve made it quite clear what kind of person you are. Liar. Backstabber. Hypocrite. Selfish.” Reason floods my brain again, reminding me I don’t know Zara anymore. Reminding me that she’s made her own mistakes too. She’s still working for Agency 51, after all. Her flippant dismissal enrages me.

“That’s bullshit. The one time I acted selfishly⁠—”

She scoffs. “I don’t have time to listen to your pathetic excuses. I just came here to tell you she wants you back. I came here to⁠—”

“I’m not coming back. Ever. I thought I made that clear years ago. I don’t owe anything to anyone. And I want nothing to do with any of you.” I immediately regret the last words as hurt flickers across her face.

“Well, good to know I still can’t count on you on my side. You should know you were exceptionally easy to track down, by the way. I can promise you she’ll find it easy too.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m warning you, you undeserving asshole.”

“Why?”

Zara leans close to throw her words in my face. “Because some of us are good people, some of us remember the promises we made to those we cared about, some of us are just doing our best.”